


Arrested

by canis_m



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Hair-pulling, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Roleplay, Top Liv, muff diving, the Miranda warning as foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canis_m/pseuds/canis_m
Summary: In a stolen hour at home, Rafael gets himself in trouble.  Olivia lays down the law.





	Arrested

"What are you gonna do, bring me down to the station?" said Rafael.

He was pouring himself a drink, unrepentant. Olivia pursed her lips. All she'd wanted was a heart-healthy nibble with her after-work glass of Cab. Now her snacking dreams were dashed, all because Professor Munchies and his unfairly lenient schedule had beaten her home, beating her to the punch. 

She set her wine glass on the kitchen counter. Keeping her expression mild, she sidled behind Rafael, as if she meant to grab something from the fridge. 

Instead she grabbed his arms—first one, then the other—and pinned them at the small of his back.

"Rafael Barba." She adjusted her hold. "You are under arrest for stealing the last chocolate-covered almond and not replacing the box."

With a stifled noise he squirmed away from her, twisting out of her grip. He'd been slacking lately on his workout routine, such as it was—getting softer and softer around the middle—but he could move like a damned weasel when he wanted to. He backed out of the kitchen into the hallway, grinning like a fool.

Olivia stalked after him. "Resisting arrest?" If he'd been in suspenders she would've had an easier handhold, but he'd changed into a polo when he got home from class. She seized him by the belt and yanked him close. "You wanna do this the hard way?"

Rafael's pupils flared. At close range the soft blue polo made his eyes look more grey than hazel. Delight shone in them, and something darker than delight. He wet his lips. 

"I like the hard way."

Their gazes locked. Part of Olivia couldn't believe what she was hearing, but the larger part of her could. He'd always liked watching her work. Since he'd changed jobs there'd been no chances to do it. Maybe he missed seeing her in action. Maybe he was a randy little minx who liked her to push him around. 

They had the place to themselves for another hour. Her pulse beat in her ears. She was breathing faster—they both were. His chest heaved against hers.

Before less impaired judgment could reassert itself, Olivia spun him. She plastered herself against him, shoving him into the hallway wall. Rafael wheezed a snigger and squirmed with brazen glee. The squirming begat an abject failure to escape. Olivia put her mouth on the curl of his ear.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used—" 

"You don't have probable cause. Eating the last chocolate almond's a misdemeanor. You didn't see me do it."

She manhandled his arms to lie braced over his head. "Failure to replenish the stash is a felony, and I do have probable cause. Your admission."

"What admission?" He lifted his chin. "My word against yours. He said, she said."

"If you didn't eat it, who did? Eddie the Elephant?" When he opened his mouth again, she jerked him to stillness. "Save it for the jury, smart mouth. Keep your arms up and spread 'em."

His Adam's apple bobbed on a swallow as he obeyed. She put her chin on his shoulder, chest pressed to his back. She was still in her work clothes, minus boots, badge, and gun; maybe it helped with verisimilitude. The pat-down, on the other hand, was an exercise in pure fantasy: she frisked him with lascivious slowness, smoothing her hands down and up his arms and sides, blatantly groping his pecs. When she skimmed her thumbs over his nipples, he inhaled sharply. She lingered there for a minute before sliding her palms downward, over the curve of his belly to his belt.

"I'm not carrying," said Rafael. He sounded breathless.

"I _said,_ shut your mouth." 

She shoved her pelvis against his ass and brought her weight to bear, mashing him flatter against the wall. He let out a grunt of appreciation. Pulling back slightly, she kicked his legs apart further and palmed his groin. His bulge seemed to twitch at the touch. 

"Not carrying? What's this?" She squeezed through the fabric of his trousers. "Feels like a weapon to me. Got a license for this?"

"That's, uh—" He'd shut his eyes. He bit his bottom lip against a grin. "I can explain, Officer."

She went on kneading, didn't stop when Rafael made a noise in his throat and started to rock into her grasp. She murmured directly into his ear. "You walk around campus with this thing?"

"For self-defense. I keep getting, ngh. Savaged by cougars—"

"Cougars, plural?"

"Maybe it's just one, she's _very_ aggressive—"

"Yeah? You can tell me about it down at the precinct." Seizing his belt again, Olivia dragged him away from the wall. She pointed him at the bedroom. "Let's go for a ride."

*

"Interesting interrogation room," said Rafael, just before Olivia threw him down on the bed.

She shut the door behind them. He rolled onto his back to face her, smirking and flushed. 

"Do you always conduct horizontal interviews, or—"

"Special cases only." She climbed onto the bed and knelt over him, surveying him with a critical eye. Shirt rumpled, belt skewed, pants tented—not bad for a start. She grabbed a fistful of his polo and pulled until it came untucked.

"Are we doing a strip search, Officer?" 

"Not just yet." Olivia reached for his belt buckle and undid it. "Given your performance earlier, I'd feel more comfortable if you were restrained."

" _My_ performance? You were the one using excessive force."

She pulled the belt off slowly at first, only to whip it free with a snap. Sliding the belt's end back though its buckle, she made a narrow loop. She'd meant only to lasso his wrists with it, more for show than in any real effort to bind, but the humor drained from Rafael's face as if she'd pulled the plug. He pushed up onto his elbows, eyes trained on the belt.

"Hold on, um—yellow?"

Olivia stopped. They'd never had occasion to use a color code before, but she knew a call for time out when she heard one. She sat back. 

"Sorry, it's—" Reluctance creased Rafael's brow, and something not far from regret. "Adam Cain wouldn't have known a safeword if it bit him in the ass."

Olivia could've kicked herself. "'Course. I'm sorry." Her shoulders sank. "I don't know where my head's at."

"Don't be sorry, this is—" He smiled his lopsided smile and laid a hand on her thigh. His voice rose to an encouraging croon. "You're doing great, honey."

Mouth twisting, she chucked the belt over the side of the bed. "Okay, no belts."

"Cuffs?" he suggested, with what might've passed as innocence in some other context.

It wasn't the first time he'd floated that sort of idea. Olivia had come around to some tamer forms of tying up, provided she was doing the tying—amazing what neckties could do—but when it came to handcuffs she shook her head. 

"They're not toys."

He nodded understanding. The swiftness of his acceptance relieved her, and really, why bother fussing with physical restraints at all? She prowled over Rafael like the cougar he'd called her, planting hands on either side of his neck. 

"You'll just have to use your imagination," she said.

"Mm, I can do that." He stroked her arm up to the short sleeve of her blouse. "What's your title, by the way? For present purposes."

"How about we stick with 'Officer' for now?"

Rafael relaxed onto the bed. "Look, Officer, Eddie the Elephant is a known offender. He's escalating from ice cream to chocolate almonds. He's the one you should be looking at, not me." He tilted his chin up, exposing his throat as he stretched, but kept his arms flat on the bedspread, as if manacles held them in place. "If there's _any_ thing I can do to make it worth your while to just call this a misunderstanding and send me home..."

Olivia shifted to lounge beside him, weight propped on one hand. She skated her fingernails down his front, lightly grazing. "Bribery, Mr. Barba?"

"Bribery's such an ugly word." When her hand reached his fly and opened it, he practically batted his lashes. Olivia had to bite back a snort. "Call it an exchange of favors?"

"I'd heard you can be awfully persuasive when you want to be."

"My reputation precedes me? Of course it does." His chin bobbed toward the bulge in his pants as her hand skirted it. "You seemed very concerned about _that,_ earlier. Maybe there's some way I could allay your concerns?"

Olivia pretended to deliberate. "Okay, sure. How about you get this out—" she palmed him directly "—and give me a little show. If you make it good enough, I might let you walk away."

His cock strained into her hand, against the fabric of his chinos and briefs. "No charges filed?"

"No charges."

"Happy to help the police." His fingers wiggled. "I'll need my hands free."

She reached for his nearer wrist. She lifted it from the bedspread, repeating the gesture with the other arm. Freed, Rafael rubbed both wrists as if they'd been physically shackled. He sat up as she moved off him, then scooted backward to the pillows at the head of the bed.

Olivia stood up. She paced slowly, almost idly, around the foot of the bed, keeping her eyes on him. "Shirt off," she said. 

He smiled coyly—ridiculously—and arched his back, peeling the polo over his head in slow motion. The play of muscle as he pulled his arms free made Olivia stifle a grin. He tossed the shirt aside, then hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his chinos. He paused.

"Will your detective friends be watching, too?" He nodded sideways toward the bedroom window, as if it were a two-way mirror.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she said. "You like an audience. But no. It's just you and me. I'm the one you need to impress."

A smirk tugged at the side of his mouth. He hiked up his hips and slid his pants down with a shameless shimmy. He took his time about the striped socks, peeling one after the other, giving each one a twirl before flicking it over the bedside and waggling his exposed toes in the air. When it came to his briefs, he palmed himself through them before working them downward, letting his thick cock spring free.

He settled back into the pillows. Holding Olivia's gaze, he took his cock in hand and started stroking, using long, lazy pulls from root to tip. 

Olivia narrowed her eyes. "Get your hand wet," she said.

He glanced toward the nightstand and its drawer. Olivia tapped her foot and shook her head. 

"You think we keep K-Y on hand for miscreants? Lick it."

Eyes still on hers, he opened his mouth and extended his tongue. With cartoonish slowness he dragged it over the flat of his palm, then again over the pads of his fingers. Hand on her hip, Olivia paced at the foot of the bed. 

"Now get back to it," she said.

Rafael arched his neck, lifting his chin. He let his legs slouch further apart, then drew up one knee in a pose of obnoxious insouciance, one that afforded an unimpeded view. He wrapped his palm again around his shaft. The one was sized to match the other; Olivia never failed to appreciate the dimensions of both.

She took a moment to appreciate now. He stroked himself languidly, even carelessly, like jerking off in front of NYPD was just another day on the job. His lips parted on a desultory half-smile. The look wasn't bad, but she was ready to see him lose the smirk. 

She glanced down at her fingernails, pretending to check the polish for chips. "Okay," she said boredly, "now how about you do it like you mean it. Like you do when you're alone."

"When I'm alone?" He thumbed the head of his cock at her. He might as well have been thumbing his nose. "When I'm alone there'd be candles, rose petals. Alexa playing smooth jazz—"

"You know, I seem to be getting a lot of lip here." Olivia stalked to the head of the bed. "And not enough action. So how about we try something else."

Feet planted, she assumed her most peremptory stance. Reaching for the clasp of her pants, she unzipped. She pushed down pants and panties together, just enough to give the required access. Rafael watched with lips parted, seemingly rapt, as she leaned forward, thighs to the mattress—but he didn't move, not until her arm snaked out to grab hold of his head.

She pulled him to her, gripping by the hair. He offered no resistance, merely belly-flopped with his nose to her groin. He sucked a deep inhale.

"Go on," said Olivia. "If you wanna get out of here, get to it."

He closed his eyes. He pressed his mouth to her, tonguing, as if in a delicate kiss. The next kiss turned mutually hungry. Then he nuzzled and licked her in earnest, giving sweet, hot strokes to her clit. 

Olivia exhaled slowly. Curling her fingers like claws, she raked her thumb over the front of his hair. "You like that, huh? Like to eat it?" Rafael made a low, wordless sound. "I've seen your file. All those arrests and no charges. You must really enjoy yourself." 

He hummed, not in denial. The vibration sent purls up her spine. She stroked his head with brief approval, circling her hips in his face. 

"Some of those arresting officers were men," she added. "You like that, too, huh? I'll bet you do. I bet you take it like a champ."

"I try not to discriminate," he mumbled. Olivia tightened her grip on him, giving a jerk of rebuke.

"Did I tell you to talk?"

Eyes lowered, Rafael shook his head.

"That's right. Now we're getting somewhere." Relaxing her shoulders, she inched her feet further apart. 

He resumed his obedient lapping. Under his mouth her pussy throbbed, and the ache in her started to swell. She needed more—something was missing, something was off—but when he moved to use fingers, she denied him with another curt jerk. 

After that he redoubled his efforts, chin fervently bobbing. His palms curled on the edge of the bed. When he drew back to catch his breath, only briefly, she pushed him into place with an implacable hand. If he wanted to be let off, he had to earn it: that was the deal.

For a second the scene in her mind sharpened. Instead of bedspread and curtains, she saw brick walls and caged windows, the interrogation table's stark metal expanse. The dark span of glass behind her, hiding whoever stood on its far side. The suspect, bent low in the chair. Or on his knees, maybe, on the bare floor, cuffed hands in his lap while she made him do what they were doing. Giving him no quarter and no choice. 

A wash of cold doused her, like a spill of ice in her lap. Her gut flinched. Letting go of Rafael abruptly, she stepped back.

The word _yellow_ caught in her teeth, and then _red_. Before she could say either, Rafael looked up, lips puffy and slicked. He seemed half drunk, but he saw her face, and the dreamy haze in his eyes vanished.

"Hey." He straggled upright. "You okay?"

Olivia pulled up her pants. She sat heavily on the edge of the bed. His concern—immediate and earnest, without a trace of blame—tipped her precariously, incongruously toward tears. She wiped one eye, dismayed at herself.

"Sorry." Her voice was raw. "I need a minute."

Rafael hefted himself to sit up properly. He spread his hand on the small of her back, rubbing over the fabric of her blouse. He waited, listening. Olivia shook her head.

"I just—for a minute it got too real."

"Well, that's no fun." He pursed his lips, setting his mind to the problem. "We didn't exactly do a lot of prep."

She coughed a disparaging laugh. "Honestly, if there'd been prep work involved? I don't know that I would've signed up." If there was anything more embarrassing than absurd roleplay, it was getting so mired in the absurd roleplay that it stopped feeling like play. "Maybe I'm not cut out for acting. UC work was never my strong suit."

"I wouldn't go that far. That time I showed up at your office and you were dressed as a madam?" Draping himself around her, Rafael set his chin on her shoulder. "First time in my life I wanted to be a john." 

Olivia huffed, but leaned into him. She bumped her head against his. "Sorry," she said again. "I know you were having a good time."

"You always show me a good time," said Rafael. 

He kissed her with unwavering tenderness. It soothed the last of the discomfort in her chest. When he started to draw back, she leaned into him, asking for more, and with a quiet sound he kissed her again. 

She couldn't taste herself on him, but the thought that she might've renewed the heat in her. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss. A pleased noise escaped him. His hand stroked her thigh, smoothing toward its inner curve and her open fly. 

Olivia caressed his forearm. "I wanna keep going, but—can we drop the act?"

"It's done," he said. "Curtains. But that means you," he fingered the opening of her pants, "are wearing too many clothes."

It was much easier to smile after that. Olivia stripped off her blouse in one smooth motion. Rafael undid the clasp of her bra, and she stood to slip out of her pants. 

"Should've known," he said, when she sat back down, naked and much happier against him. "As if you could even pretend to be a dirty cop for longer than five minutes."

"Hey, I did at least ten." 

Rafael seemed to pay little mind, too occupied with nosing her bared shoulder. With one hand he cupped her breast and caressed it; his other hand slid unerringly south. It slipped into the curls on her mound. He fingered the soft tufts of hair, then rubbed either side of her clit, too lightly to do anything but drive her crazy. 

Olivia endured for a minute, then spread her hand on his to press decisively down—and that was more like it. She tipped her head back to his shoulder. She rocked into the touch of his hand. She sighed, and the sigh turned to an _mmm_ when his middle finger traced her entrance and dipped in.

He kissed her neck, pausing to nip and nuzzle. "You want my mouth again?" 

Much as she liked what his hands were doing, she wasn't about to say no. "Please."

"You wanna ride it?" When she turned to look at him, his eyebrows canted. His fingers kept up their smooth teasing, outside and in. "I was hoping you would."

In answer she grabbed his wrist and moved to straddle him, pushing him flat on the bed. Rafael's grin flashed sideways. He let himself be tackled, flopping back in delight. 

Olivia shoved pillows aside. She scooted up to kneel over him, thighs cradling his face, her mound a breath away from his lips. She hesitated. 

"You'll tap if it's too much?"

"Mm-hmm."

Satisfied, she took hold of the headboard. Giddiness swelled in her as she looked down at Rafael, as if she stood at a towering height. His eyes were fixed on her intently, on her flushed folds spread open above him. Even before she swayed down and forward, easing onto him, his face went slack with senseless bliss. 

At the first stroke of his tongue she bit her lip. At the second, she sank lower, angling for more. His mouth welcomed her, hot and eager. She shut her eyes and let herself rock. 

Sometimes she was slower to get wet than she used to be—one of the many joys of age—but in minutes Rafael had her dripping, squirming on his mouth as melting sweetness spread. By turns he licked into her, sucked her, fluttered his tongue or spread it flat to let her grind. The slick sounds maddened her—she could've sworn he did it on purpose, making as much noise as he possibly could, as if to compensate for being too smothered in pussy to talk. 

Still, when he let out a moan, she had enough presence of mind left to lift up. "Okay?"

"Never better," he gasped. For emphasis he curled his tongue upward, giving a long, slavering lick to her slit. 

Olivia tossed her head and grinned. She sat back on her haunches, resting weight on his chest, then ran greedy hands through his hair. 

"Just checking," she said. "Hate to have you suffocate." Brian had groused about that, the few times they'd tried. Said being sat on made him claustrophobic. Ed had never offered, and she'd never asked. In retrospect, maybe that should've been a sign.

As for Rafael, he was licking his lips like a cat in cream. "Liv, if it's time for me to shuffle off this mortal coil? This is how I wanna go."

"That's your advance directive?" She petted his face, ruffled his hair, thumbed the curl of his rosy pink ears. Her voice dropped to a throaty purr. "Try to hang in there. I want you in me before we're through."

"Jesus," he whispered, but his eyes fluttered as she shimmied back onto his mouth.

She found a rhythm that both slaked and stoked her. Rafael's hands slid from her thighs to her breasts, then to her backside, worshipful as they clutched her ass. Soon she was fighting maddening noise of her own—panting, biting back moans, until her scattered brain remembered they were alone in the apartment. 

Abandon seized her. She splayed her thighs wide. Pitching forward, she gripped the headboard with both hands, like the bar of a roller coaster about to plunge.

She rode him with mindless intent. His fingers dug at the meat of her ass. The rush built in her, relentless, mounting with every jerk of her hips. There was no catching her breath till it broke.

Her whisper went ragged. "Rafa, baby, so good, so good."

He grunted in answer. His tongue laved her clit. Olivia braced her weight on one hand. She shoved the other into his hair, all the way down to the roots. Seizing a fistful, she pulled his mouth tight against her and ground. Her spine stiffened. The innermost core of her clenched. 

"Oh, oh yeah, ohh—"

The wave hit.

It poured through her, washing her mind white as foam. Sweet heat drenched her. Her mouth hung open, but she forgot how to make sound, too lost to it even to moan. 

She lifted off Rafael, trembling. Between her legs he lay panting for air. He knew better than to touch her clit so soon after, but he nuzzled her inner thigh and kissed there, palming broad, soothing strokes over her hips. 

Her head slumped over her arms. She lowered her hands to the bed. Her whole body felt weighted, saturated, unmoored by the flood. Groggily she shifted down and backwards, enough to bring her breasts to Rafael's mouth. He raised his face to greet them, nosing between them. His slack face burrowed from side to side, smeared wet from lips to chin.

"Que rica, mami," he whispered. "Riquísima." His hands groped her back and shoulders. His breath fell hot on her skin. He dropped a kiss, then another and another, leaving fevered impressions. Between kisses he went on muttering, as if to make up for lost chances to speak. Some of it was too muffled to parse, even with Olivia's best Spanish—was it really _papaya_ he'd said?—but the parts she understood burned her ears. "Me encanta hacer que te corras," he whispered, just before he drew her nipple into his mouth.

Her senses swam with it: the wake of orgasm, the sound of his voice, the suckling tug of his mouth. The shaft of his cock nudged the curve of her ass. She rubbed back against it, giving him friction, and he groaned without letting go of her tit.

She wanted to spoil him. She let him suckle, let him tell her how she tasted, how wholly he was hers. She held up as long as she could, but in the end gravity defeated her. Her arms folded. With a groan she slid off to slump at his side. 

"God." She sank dazedly into a pillow. "Make it my advanced directive, too," she said, after a little while, in a husk of a voice. "I wanna go out like that."

He panted laughter. "Estate planning, not my forte. But I'll see what can be done." The corners of his eyes crinkled. "Need a breather?"

"No, but I am done being upright, thanks to you."

"Hmm." He kissed her, then craned his neck for a glimpse of the clock. 

"We're okay," she said, petting his chest, "unless you're a slug about it."

"You think I'm gonna last after all that? Flattering, but dream on." He kissed her again, first on the corner of her lips, then the line of her jaw. "You're lucky I didn't blow it when you grabbed my hair."

For Olivia it was hard to imagine; if any partner of hers had tried to yank her around that way, she'd have decked him. Cavemen had never been her style. But there was no question Rafael liked a little roughhousing, if he was on the receiving end.

"That good, huh?" She reached to tease him. His cock, ever patient, was beyond ready, dripping forlornly from the slit at the head. With a few pulls it twitched in her hand. Rafael folded his lips inward. His forehead scrunched with visible strain. Olivia managed not to snicker. She let go before she caused an accident, and reached to gather him near. 

If she'd expected him to ease his weight onto her, missionary style, he had other plans. Kissing her all the while, he crawled to spoon up behind her, chest to her back, cock to her rear. He cradled her to him, cupping a hand to her breast.

"This okay?" he asked, in the small voice that made her go weak, more surely than any seductive foolery. Whatever surprise she'd felt gave way to rightness and gladness. She laid her hand over his hand, aligning the two.

"Yeah."

He buried his face in her hair. He entered her slowly. As he pressed in she sighed at the heat of him, the way he filled her, his thick shaft and its slick, perfect glide. 

"Mm," she breathed, "that's nice."

"'Nice'?" He sounded faintly strangled.

"Mm, very."

When he was fully sheathed, his whole body went still. Olivia tightened around him, not ungently, and heard her name catch in his throat. 

"Come on, baby," she whispered, and his hips gave a reflexive little buck. His hand clutched her breast, in echo of the way she clutched him inside her. He whispered at her ear, asking if she wanted to come again. 

The thought seemed far from urgent, but a pang of pleasure struck her—at his attentiveness, his concern for her desire even now, when it ought to be his turn to think of his own. She sighed a yes. He started to rock them, sliding within her in increments. He reached to coax her with fingers and thumb and great care. Success shouldn't have surprised her, given his track record, but the sweetness welled this time almost without warning. It spilled through her body, warming like wine. 

He was right, as it turned out, about not lasting. As soon as he felt her go over, he stuttered a sound—for the sake of his dignity she wouldn't call it a whimper. He pulsed inside her, muffling his moan against her neck.

Afterward he held her, showing no willingness to shift. His cock nestled and softened between her thighs. His hand lingered on her breast, now and then lightly squeezing, the way a child might grasp for comfort at a sleeve. Olivia clasped it and brought it to her mouth to kiss: his knuckles, his curled fingers, his ring finger with its broad gold band.

Contentment folded over her like a blanket. She drifted, skirting near to a doze. Rafael nuzzled her hair, then nudged the strands with his chin so he could kiss her shoulder. When she let go of his hand, it trailed down her belly, in the barest suggestion of a hint.

She could've laughed. She yawned instead. "You're insatiable."

"Only one of us can pull a threefer in the space of an hour," he reasoned, "and it's not me."

"So I should step up and take one for the team?" She shook her head, smiling. "Save it. Otherwise I'll be out like a light."

They had only a little time left, in any case. Olivia turned in his arms. Rafael's gaze rested on her warmly. His hair was a delectable mess.

"You know, I'm not sorry we ditched the playacting," he said.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think my criminal alias gets to cuddle with Officer Liv."

She snuffled a laugh. "I dunno, she seemed pretty into him. Maybe they'd run away together."

His cheeks, always soft, were made softer in afterglow, so much so that it became impossible not to touch them. Olivia fitted her hand to the curve of his face, committing to heart the feel of it, imprinting on her palm the shape of love.

"I'd rather be here with you," he said.

*

They managed, with Herculean effort, not to doze off. There was enough time to clean up, if only just, before Rafael had to fetch Noah from his playdate. When the boys came home, Olivia was in the kitchen, sipping her glass of abandoned Cab. She smiled over the pot of boiling spaghetti. 

"Hey, sweetie. You had fun at Gavin's?"

"Yeah! We played cops and robbers—"

Halfway through helping Noah out of his jacket, Rafael blinked up. His eyes met hers. He coughed into his sleeve. Olivia stirred the pot with equanimity.

"And which were you?"

"Robber!"

She clapped a hand to her chest. "A burglar? In _my_ house?"

Noah giggled. "We switched places, though. Gavin's not very good at police work, so I had to show him."

"It's fun to play the bad guy, though, sometimes, huh?" Olivia said. "As long as it's pretend."

"Yeah," said Noah judiciously. "For a while."

Rafael sauntered into the kitchen, returning to the scene of his crime. "Like mother, like son," he said, sotto voce, and Olivia flicked a wet noodle at his face. 

He plucked it from its landing spot on his shoulder. After studying it contemplatively, he coiled it into his mouth and chewed. 

"Al dente," he murmured. Olivia rolled her eyes, but then he reached for his jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. He set it on the counter.

The bag held chocolate-covered almonds. Milk chocolate.

"They were out of dark," said Rafael, with every evidence of regret. "I can make another run later."

Olivia closed the space between them. She grasped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in.

"You're not going anywhere," she said.

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to Alv for help with the Spanish, to Rosehips for wondering if they would roleplay, and to both for the cheering on.
> 
> Comments are treasured!
> 
> You can find me at unicornmagic.tumblr.com


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